


True Colours Are Beautiful Like a Rainbow

by Emrys MK (mk_malfoy)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Pendragon Is a Prat, Canon Era, Fairy Tale Elements, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Merlin is an Elf-Prince, Oblivious Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Prince Merlin (Merlin), Sexual Content, Sick Merlin (Merlin), Soul Bond, Soulmates, Stubborn Merlin (Merlin), soul marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-13 00:04:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21485062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_malfoy/pseuds/Emrys%20MK
Summary: Arthur, already irritated because he has somehow acquired a strange mark on his chest, is less than pleased when his father sends him to meet with an elf-prince. So it’s probably a good thing he does not know that he has been summoned under false pretenses that have very little to do with peace treaties and everything to do with the strange mark on his chest.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 441
Collections: Merlin Holidays 2019





	True Colours Are Beautiful Like a Rainbow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lao_paperman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lao_paperman/gifts).

> **Author's Notes:** There are a few people to thank for their help in getting this story from idea to finished novella. First I must once again sing the praises of my perpetually tremendous and encouraging beta, whose eye for detail and positive comments sprinkled throughout the beta-process remind me each and every time how fortunate I am. Many thanks also to the mods for hosting this fest again. And to Lao, without whom I would have never written this. Each prompt elicited exciting ideas, but there was one that called to me and said, "You must write this!" I hope this makes you smile as much as your art has made me do the same over the years.
> 
> The title is from Cyndi Lauper's song _True Colors_.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

A💓M

Once upon a time, in a land called Camelot, Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther (the king) and Ygraine (tragically taken from the mortal world mere minutes after giving birth to her son) stared ahead, his mouth agape.

_Elf-Prince_?

The young prince let out a nervous laugh as he looked around to see if others were reacting similarly.

They weren’t. Everyone seated at the large, rectangular table appeared serious and attentive as they anxiously awaited their king’s next words. 

Arthur wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what those next words would be.

Perhaps he had misheard. Maybe his father hadn’t said _elf-prince_ at all. Could the king of Camelot have said _Aelfric_ or some other similar name of foreign royalty?

Because, as far as Arthur knew, there were no longer elves.

Right?

Arthur took a shaky breath as he thought back to that time, many years in the past, where he seemed to recall playing on the training grounds with a little boy that had pointy ears. A young Arthur had assumed there was something wrong with the other’s ears because the boy’s father, the king of someplace with a long and difficult-to-pronounce name, had looked every bit the human Arthur’s father had.

Could that boy have been an elf?

Arthur didn’t think so. He guessed it were possible, but hadn’t the elvish population been decimated in the 300s by the Saxons? As horrid as Arthur was with remembering dates and historical occurrences, he was familiar with this particular tidbit of information because, according to his father, one of his ancestors had been mistaken for an elf and told by the ruling Saxons that, if he wished to live, he’d best change his appearance lest he end up dead, the same as his fellow elves. 

The dejected Pendragon, not at all an elf but someone ostracized for his looks, had apparently left his familiar surroundings and searched far and wide for any remaining elves (Arthur couldn't fathom out why this person would have gone to search for elves; it made no sense), but hadn’t found a one.

Arthur wondered what became of the man, or if the story were even factual. How would his father have known what happened to the man if he left? It would only make sense if the man had returned, and that didn’t seem plausible at all. Why would someone return to a dangerous place? 

But that was a thought for another day. For now there were more pressing issues to dwell on, such as possibly travelling to meet elves, which seemed unbelievable. Arthur couldn’t imagine that this could be true, but his father’s amused grin, an expression Arthur had seen one too many times in similar situations, left little doubt.

In less than a week’s time the king’s son would travel to meet a real-life elf-prince. 

Arthur scoffed beneath his breath.

Some would consider this an honour, the king of Camelot among them. But Arthur did not share this sentiment. At all.

As if he didn’t already have enough to worry about… 

A fortnight in the past Arthur had awakened with a funny feeling in his chest. He'd had an odd, disquieting dream, one that he could not recall any specific facts, only intense feelings of discontent. Somewhat discomfited because Gaius had recently experienced an episode where his chest hurt and he’d ended up quite ill for some time, Arthur had pressed his hand to the area immediately above his left nipple and found it much warmer than any other part of his body. Looking down he’d gasped in shock to see a dark-ish red heart-shaped design with the letter M within, in black.

Arthur hadn’t shared this alarming discovery with anyone; he’d almost told Leon, but what would he have said? Perhaps if the design weren’t in the shape of a heart he’d be more inclined to ask others what they thought, but he could already hear Morgana waxing poetic about how _ it must be a soul mark and his true love was waiting for him to go to her_.

As if. Arthur harrumphed. Soul marks weren’t even real. Just like all the other stories passed down for entertainment purposes, the tale of the soul mark was merely an anecdote people made up to make life more colourful and interesting... and romantic. 

Obviously, this ploy worked for certain females who had entirely too much free time on their hands.

Whatever this strange mark was, Arthur would find out about it later, when he had more time. At present, he needed to focus on elves.

What a complete waste of time.

And it seemed the first step to this next irksome chapter in his life was a day with Morgana, because the following morning, a grumpy and uncooperative Arthur was awakened, fed, dressed, and escorted by his manservant to the throne room, where Morgana was waiting for him, a scowl on her face as she stood before a table laden with ornate goblets, utensils, food, drink, and other unknown accoutrements.

The next few hours were not looking at all enticing to Arthur, but at least Leon, Arthur's best friend since childhood and go-to when in a quandary, was also present. All was not lost. 

Arthur glanced around and let a small smile flit across his face when he saw no one else present. Thankfully, he would not have to put up with sneers and whispered insults behind his back from the small retinue of less than ten knights who would be joining them on their journey.

Most of these knights were older and more experienced in dealing with foreign delegations. It was these vaunted men, ones jealous of the king’s son because they did not think he had to work as hard as they did to be called a knight of Camelot, who would be taking the lead role facilitating the peace treaty (to say Arthur was disappointed would be a grave understatement.)

Apparently, _these knights_, assigned to this official royal visit by his father, did not need to learn the finer points of etiquette.

“How nice of you to at long last grace us with your presence, Arthur. Poor Sir Leon here has been waiting for the past half hour. In future, you might want to be more considerate,” Morgana said haughtily, her green eyes boring into his.

Arthur grudgingly remained silent and allowed her this small victory, but only because he was far too tired to spar with her. If he were more awake he would happily let her know that the blame was not his, it was his manservant's. Arthur simmered beneath the surface. Had Morris woken him earlier he would have been on time. He glanced over his shoulder and glared before returning his attention to Morgana, who did not look the least bit sympathetic. But of course she wouldn’t. It was she, after all, who had told Arthur years earlier that Morris did not belong in the royal household. If memory served him correctly, she had said the boy would never last because his mind was always in the clouds. Arthur recalled dismissing Morgana's concerns straight away. Perhaps he should not have.

But that was not Arthur’s immediate concern. His only worry at the moment should be paying attention to Morgana, who was no doubt green with envy as she prepared to impart her wisdom, knowing that her guardian’s son was soon to travel to meet a real-life elf-prince. Of course, she hid it well, but Arthur knew that Morgana would have loved being the one assigned to go on this journey. She was a connoisseur of history and coveted new and interesting information, unlike Arthur, but unfortunately for her, she was not an official member of the royal family, even though she had been the king’s legal ward since her tenth year. Pity, that. Arthur would gladly bestow this honour to her if it were at all possible. He had more important things to do than travelling to some elf-laden village to meet a silly elf-prince. 

“The king has informed me that the two of you are to travel to see Prince Merlin and has asked me to—” but Morgana stopped when Arthur stretched out the tops of his ears with his thumbs and forefingers and smirked as he glanced over at Leon. When Morgana glared at him he let go of his ears and mouthed sorry, but he was nothing of the sort.

“Yes, Arthur, dear, Prince Merlin has pointy ears as all elves do. I am quite sure that you will look as funny to him as he will to you. Now, have we had our fun for the day or shall I leave the two of you to it?”

“Sorry,” Arthur murmured before he swallowed and cleared his throat. Leon did not appear amused that he’d been called out and Arthur suspected he’d hear about it. Yes, Leon would go to great lengths for his friend (he had done so many times), but that most definitely did not include acting like _a recalcitrant child_ in front of Morgana. The two shared a rather odd fascination with one another. Not for the first time, Arthur wondered just how close the two were. 

Over the next several hours, Morgana imparted in them the dos and dont's, musts and must nots, forgivables and unforgivables. There were so many things to remember. Yes, Arthur had grown up with strict rules and knew how important it was to follow proper etiquette, but even by Camelot’s rigid standards, these rules seemed excessive. But Morgana continued to emphasise how important they were and how he and Leon could be banished for being disrespectful, and if that happened it would be a stain upon Camelot. 

Finally, after the last fake meal was eaten and all the utensils and glasses and other dinner-related items were used correctly, Leon and Arthur were given their leave, but as Arthur opened the door, Morgana asked him to stay behind. A frustrated Arthur, anxious to get to the Rising Sun so he could enjoy a pint, reluctantly told Leon to go ahead.

“What is it now, Morgana, did I not bow deeply enough or smile widely enough?” Honestly, hadn’t he already suffered enough?

Morgana made a dismissive motion with her hands that meant she was less than pleased with his attitude. “And here I was thinking you might charm this Prince Merlin and have him fall madly in love with you. What was I thinking? You are far too immature to catch the eye of anyone.”

“Erm, what?” What in the bloody hell was Morgana going on about?

“Nothing, Arthur. Forget I said anything,” she replied exasperated, as if she hadn’t meant anything by the comment. But, of course, she had. In all the years Arthur had known her, she had never said anything that didn’t have meaning. “I only wanted to inform you that Gwen needs you for a fitting this evening. Now go. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your rowdy friends at the Rising Sun.”

“I’ll be there for the fitting,” he replied distractedly, curious why Morgana always made these caustic, inane remarks that got to him no matter how hard he tried to not let them. “You don’t seriously think I would ever entertain the notion of aligning myself with an elf, do you?” Arthur certainly hoped not. 

Morgana’s sigh was all the answer anyone needed. “He is an elf, Arthur, dear. He is venerated by all. His people are secretive, and not much is known about them, but what is known is that he is powerful and respected by everyone, as you are. You cannot deny that if his kingdom were joined with Camelot’s, it would bolster your standing.”

Arthur still didn’t understand. Why was he even having this conversation? And Morgana made it sound like Camelot’s leadership was lacking. That was inexcusable. “Camelot has done just fine without the help of elves thus far, Morgana; I think just maybe we can get by without them in future. And I think you forget that my father loathes all things magic. I don’t see him ever changing his stance on this. Or has he?” Arthur asked, almost certain nothing had changed, but why would Morgana have made such a statement? “Is this why my father is sending me? Does he wish to marry me off to this elf?”

“Don’t be daft, Arthur. _I_ think a union between you and Prince Merlin would be advantageous for several reasons. _Uther_ would not. Imagine, if you will, the king of Camelot negotiating a dowry with an elf.” She laughed for several seconds, but stopped abruptly when she noticed Arthur was not amused. “His marrying you off to Prince Merlin is about as likely as his marrying a troll.”

This elicited a smile from Arthur and he felt immense relief. The thought of his father going behind his back, well, it hadn’t made Arthur happy. He hadn’t looked forward to having _that_ discussion. Now, thankfully, he wouldn’t have to. 

He found himself absentmindedly rubbing the area on his chest with the odd mark, but when he realised what he was doing he abruptly stopped, as if the mere act would alert Morgana that something was amiss.

Morgana’s glare seemed to penetrate his very soul. “You are not against marrying a male, are you, Arthur? I know you have been with both males and females in the past. I think you and Prince Merlin—”

“You’ve never even met this elf called Merlin, Morgana. You have no idea what he is like,” Arthur interrupted, not wanting to hear her extolling the virtues of someone she had no clue about. He didn’t appreciate her going on about this, and how dare she question him about his willingness to marry a male.

If only it were that easy.

Yes, males could and did marry each other, but only in rare instances because, whilst women could bear children, men could not, which presented a rather insurmountable problem. In situations where a female could provide an heir to insure the continuance of the lineage, male-male marriage was allowed, however, the thought being that two men had a better chance at defending their kingdom and keeping their subjects in line. It was, Arthur knew, unfair to women to hold such beliefs, but when had anything ever been fair to women?

Several years in the past, Arthur had dreamt of his future coupling being with a male because he had not much cared for women in the way that other boys had, but he had also known that males marrying one another had happened only a handful of times. This being the case, over the past year or so Arthur had made peace with the fact that he would one day marry a princess and provide an heir. It was his duty.

A💓M

Several days later, when the rains finally gave way to foggy, cool conditions, Arthur and Leon, along with the others, set off for this place called Álfljót that wasn’t too far away, but it was far enough that Arthur had somehow never heard about it.

Morgana had berated Arthur for his lack of knowledge about elvish people and had told him that just because they were not interesting enough to garner his attention did not mean they should be ignored. Perhaps she had a point, Arthur mused. Just because the idea of elves seemed rather inane and unimportant to him did not mean that was how other people saw elves. Just maybe he needed to rethink his stance on educating himself on other races of people. He was to be the future king, after all. He would need to be well-versed in all peoples who lived within travelling distance.

Against his father’s wishes, Arthur and Leon rode ahead of the others as they departed on their two-day journey. The king had insisted his son ride in between the lead group and the group that trailed behind, and he had also been emphatic in his desire that Leon head the party. Leon had been receptive to this request, but Arthur hadn’t and emphatically refused.

The two rode hard for a long while; they wanted to make good time, but when their horses needed watering later in the day, they were forced to take a break. Both men refilled their waterskins and sat on a log as their horses slaked their thirst. The other knights congregated not too far away, no doubt cursing Arthur for something or another.

“Do you think this prince will wage war on us if we refuse to sign this treaty with him?” Leon asked as he threw a rock and watched it skip across the water. “I consider myself fairly educated in the kingdoms and there has been no upheaval between this elf kingdom and ours. They do keep a low profile. It seems odd that suddenly they would invite you to join them for a meeting.”

Arthur had been thinking the same. Perhaps there was something that had arisen that his father and the older knights were aware of, that neither he nor Leon were, but he didn't think so. Leon, even though he was young, was considered one of Arthur’s father’s favourites. Surely he would have been told of any upheaval.

Once they finished hypothesising about what their meeting with the elf-prince would be like, Arthur and Leon continued their journey, enjoying the drier climate that became cooler as they neared Álfljótr. It was a pleasant change from the damp climate that seemed to envelop Camelot and her surrounding areas this time of year.

Large, white-capped mountains and vast woods filled with various shades of seasonal colours that reminded Arthur of the time he had visited Tintagel, the birthplace of his mother, surrounded them. The dense foliage provided ample protection as they camped for the night, but as they continued their journey the following morning, the surrounding flora, bright and vibrant, became less and gave way to vast flatlands of browns and greys, with the occasional copse of trees and lone dwelling to mark where people lived. These were dotted across the landscape, but none were near the others and Arthur found himself thinking that it would be a lonely life living out in the countryside, away from the surrounding villages.

He couldn’t deny that the peace and quiet would be nice for a while, but he knew that he’d not like prolonged solitude. He needed to be around people. Maybe not kings and knights and advisors who told him how to and how not to behave, but he needed his friends.

Evening settled in on the second full day of their travels as they rode into the elf kingdom, which was perhaps half the size of Camelot. The atmosphere was thick with magic.

Arthur had little knowledge of magic – why would he have the need to know about it when he was meant to detest it? But even he could sense the sheer amount of magic that imbued this beautiful village. 

Of course the smaller-than-Camelot size meant there was no large citadel. There was, however, a beautiful dwelling that immediately caught Arthur’s eyes. It was decorated ornately and looked welcoming. Before stepping one foot inside he knew this would be a warm abode to dwell within. 

Quite unlike the castle in Camelot.

Not that Arthur didn’t like his home – he did – but to the young Pendragon it represented stifled dreams and a cemented future that often overwhelmed him. He hoped this feeling would fade with time, but for now this was how he felt.

Arthur was on high alert and glanced over at Leon, who looked equally aware of his surroundings. Arthur trusted that his father would know where he was sending his son, but there were always missed signs and Arthur did not fancy himself and Leon being ambushed as they led the others into this foreign land.

This would most likely not happen, but Arthur was apprehensive as he observed his surroundings because, unlike Camelot, where foreign parties were warmly welcomed on the steps by the royal family and others, there was no one on the steps that led inside this place. In fact, there was absolutely no one out and about, which was odd. At this time of day Arthur wouldn’t expect many to be out — it was that time of evening where families enjoyed the last meal of the day and prepared for the upcoming night — but to not see one soul out was rather unsettling. 

Maybe no one knew when they were arriving. It had been a long journey, after all, and they had departed two days later than planned. But there were ways to find these things out. Arthur’s father always knew when foreign delegations would arrive in Camelot.

Arthur and Leon found what they imagined to be the stables and slowly dismounted their horses as an older man approached them, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. 

Perhaps he had magic.

“Welcome, Arthur Pendragon, Crown Prince of Camelot,” the very-much-human-and-not-elf man said, unaware that Arthur was not yet the official crown prince. “My name is Ither. Please accept our apologies for not welcoming you and your knights as you deserve to be welcomed. We have had sickness in the outlying villages and Prince Merlin has been spending his days checking on the infirm.”

Arthur approached the older man and gave a half bow, briefly wondering if maybe his father had gotten it wrong and this Prince Merlin was not an elf-prince, but he knew his father would not have made such a mistake. That begged the question why a human was with elves. Didn’t they have a not-so-good past?

But that was a thought for another time. “Think nothing of it, Ither. This is Sir Leon of Camelot,” Arthur said with a small smile as he glanced at Leon, “and those are some of our most respected and decorated knights,” he added as he motioned behind him with a hand. “I hope the sickness your people have suffered has not been too bad?”

“I am sad to say we have suffered losses of several children, sire, but the worst has passed and the others seem to be on the mend.”

“I am very sorry for the losses your kingdom has suffered. Losing children is devastating. If Sir Leon or I can be of assistance to you or your people whilst we are here, we would be happy to do whatever is needed.”

“Thank you, sire. Now, if you’ll follow me, I will take you and your knight to your rooms so you can get settled and cleaned up after your long journey. My brother will take care of your other knights,” Ither said as he glanced over his shoulder at someone who looked much like he did walking towards them. “You and Sir Leon have been assigned manservants to help you during your stay, but at the moment they are with the prince. They will attend you after this evening’s meal. And speaking of that, Prince Merlin wishes to meet with the two of you for dinner in two hours.”

A💓M

“What does your intuition tell you?” Arthur asked as he entered Leon’s rooms without knocking. He was freshly bathed and felt refreshed (if somewhat overdressed in uncomfortable, much-too-heavy formal wear) as he sat at the table across from Leon, who was equally overdressed as he studied a map before him. Arthur knew better than to interrupt his friend, so he instead looked around the large room, similar to the one he was staying in. There were ornate tapestries and paintings covering the walls and ceiling that most assuredly told of epic stories of the past, and the ceiling was lined with what appeared to be gold. The overall effect was resplendent. Arthur’s rooms in Camelot paled in comparison and he found himself curious as to why they were so stark, with little to no colour to brighten the surroundings. It was as if the work on them had been left incomplete.

Leon continued to peruse the map for several seconds before looking up at Arthur. “At the moment I see no reason to think anything is amiss. I will be on high alert as we meet with this Merlin. From what Ither has said, I have a good feeling about his prince, but words and impressions are only that. It is through watching and hearing that we truly gain insight.”

Arthur nodded, thankful that his father had sent Leon with him. 

As Leon and he were escorted into the dining hall, Arthur was once again mesmerised by the sheer beauty that surrounded him. Each room had a warmth and charm about it that enchanted him. Morgana would have already taken copious notes about what needed to be done in Camelot’s citadel to bring it up to standards that were more worthy of royalty. 

“I see you are as enchanted by our surroundings as I am,” Leon murmured quietly so only Arthur could hear. “I shouldn’t say this, but this rather puts Camelot to shame. I dare say Morgana and her taste for the finer things in life would fall in love with this quaint, beautiful palace.”

Arthur harrumphed. “Yes, I have no doubt if Morgana saw this place she would plead with my father to marry me off to this Merlin, if only so she could come visit and surround herself with all this beauty.” Mirthless laughter followed.

“Erm, where did that come from,” Leon asked before a weak attempt at chuckling.

Arthur rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Nothing, really. Just Morgana and her dreams; the girl is completely mad, I tell you. She seems to think this Prince Merlin and I would do well to unite. Yes, Leon, as in marry one another,” he added when Leon looked rather amused. “ I mean, really, can you seriously see me and an elf ever ending up together? That woul—” 

“Prince Arthur, how honoured I am to at long last meet you,” said a deep voice from the other side of the room, the acoustics adding an echo and abruptly putting an end to what Arthur had been about to say.

Thankfully. 

Arthur chanced a glance at Leon, hoping against hope that he hadn’t just made a severe faupaux, but one look at his best friend's face dashed his hopes. But, ever the consummate showman, Arthur recovered and tried to replace his horror at possibly being overheard with an air of indifference. He could only hope it worked, but he felt the blood rushing to his face as his stomach roiled. 

He had no idea who this person was who had just spoken, but he had a very good idea it was Prince Merlin and that he had overheard what his guest said. Arthur slowly turned to his left and watched as a tall, slender pale man with wavy, almost black hair made his way towards them — his head piece was similar to the ones Arthur wore for official occasions, and he wore a purple velvet cape over what looked like a red silk tunic and brown breeches — and bowed. 

The elf-prince had given off an other-worldly aura as he seemed to almost float across the room, but the effect was heightened as he stood before his guests. His every movement seemed imbued with regality. Arthur found himself both envious and enamoured, emotions he hadn’t been prepared for.

So, this was the elf-prince.

His ears were indeed pointed, as was his nose, although not nearly as much as Arthur had thought it would be. The prince painted a pristine picture of elegance, which seemed an awkward descriptor for a male, as did the word beautiful, but this man was both, and Arthur found himself intrigued… and, unfortunately, undeniably and irrevocably smitten.

Arthur cursed beneath his breath. He could hear Morgana laughing maniacally at him. Damn her and her silly ideas. But he had to admit that even if Morgana hadn't mentioned anything about him getting together with Merlin, the foreign prince's aesthetically pleasing features would have captivated him.

Merlin was not smiling at his guests, but neither did he look angry or upset. He appeared official. He was no doubt practiced in the art of greeting others. It was likely these occasions were just as written in stone for Merlin as they were for Arthur and his father. 

Arthur returned the bow and smiled.

“I am Prince Merlin of Álfljótr. I welcome the two of you to my kingdom. It must seem small compared to Camelot, but we do the best we can with what we have,” the now smiling prince said, looking much more comfortable.

“Álfljótr is beautiful, your highness. Sir Leon and I have been admiring all the tapestries and paintings.” Arthur looked around and shook his head in wonderment. “I can only imagine the work and hours it took to do all of this. Yes, as you say, Camelot is large, but we do not have anything near as ornate. My father’s ward would surely make a fool of herself if she were here,” Arthur added before closing his mouth abruptly, thinking he might have gone on too much. But Leon grinned and nodded towards the prince.

“Was your journey satisfactory?” the elf-prince asked. “My men tell me the weather near Camelot has been turbulent recently. I do hope you did not have to travel in inclement conditions.”

Arthur took a cue from the prince and relaxed, momentarily forgetting that he had only seconds earlier potentially made a huge error in judgement by speaking too loudly and saying things that he would not wish for the prince to have overheard. Perhaps it was time he took a cue from Leon and spoke softly in public. Hadn’t his father suggested this in the past?

“We delayed our journey two days because of the rains. Once we left the weather was fair and conducive to an easy journey.” Leon’s nod and smile eased Arthur’s mind and helped him to get back on track and return his mind where it needed to be. He was here to sign a peace treaty and that was what he needed to concentrate on. 

No good ever came from dwelling on things that could never be.

Merlin had magic.

The King of Camelot detested magic.

Arthur was almost positive Merlin had overheard him earlier.

And there was the fact that Arthur had only met the prince seconds earlier. There was every reason to believe the two would share little in common. 

All in all, these four things did not bode well for Arthur making nice with Prince Merlin and ending up happily ever after with him.

If only Arthur’s libido, which hadn’t been this stimulated in a long while, understood.

Merlin led them to the large table in the centre of the room, which almost perfectly replicated the one Morgana had trained them on, and informed them that dinner was to be six courses. Arthur glanced at Leon, wondering how on earth they were to eat all the food before them. Before Leon could react, however, Prince Merlin informed them that a normal welcoming feast had been planned, but because of the sickness, it had been decided that it was safer for Merlin to meet with Arthur and Leon alone. This made sense and made Arthur feel better, but it didn't solve the problem of what was to be done with the excess of food: bison, chicken, pork, seafood, fruit, vegetables, spirits, and scrumptious desserts. Fortunately, the elf-prince assured them that all the leftovers would be taken to the ill.

Arthur tucked in but was careful not to eat too quickly. He found himself looking over at Leon far too often, but Morgana had him so paranoid that he could barely make a move without seeking Leon’s approval. For all Arthur knew, Merlin could care less about all this etiquette tosh and Morgana had been having Arthur and Leon on. If that were the case, Arthur would definitely pay her back. 

Revenge was sweet.

“Tomorrow you and the other knights will meet with our knights and advisors, Sir Leon,” Merlin said as he set down his serviette and took a drink from his goblet. “They will give you and your men the details of the peace treaty and you can share with them what your king has sent you to tell them. I will take Prince Arthur on a tour of Álfljótr. It is far too rare that I get to show off our little piece of paradise here. When we return we can all sit down together and work out the finer details of the treaty.”

Leon nodded. “Yes, sire.”

For some time they spoke, for the most part, of inconsequential things. Though Arthur found himself somewhat distracted, he did try to follow along, but he knew that Leon would fill him in on the details later. He always did. 

Just when Arthur found himself becoming overly restless, Prince Merlin cleared his throat and stood. “I fear my non-stop activities of the past few days have rather worn me down. My manservant, who might as well be the court physician, has advised me to turn in early so I will be prepared for tomorrow.”

As the prince walked away, Arthur watched as he placed his right hand over the left side of his chest, and although he couldn’t see the prince’s face, Merlin’s shoulders seemed to lift up and then go back down. 

It unsettled Arthur for some reason and had him touching the place over his chest where that odd mark had appeared. It was not uncomfortable but he thought he felt his heart speeding up. He took in a deep breath and then released it as he watched Prince Merlin until he was out of sight.

Their host gone to bed, Ither led Arthur and Leon back to their rooms. Arthur couldn’t wait to get in bed and sleep. He was exhausted from the long journey and had an idea that the next few days would be packed from dawn to dusk.

“Prince Merlin has been worried about what you would think of our little village. It isn’t much, compared to Camelot, but we are proud of it,” Ither said as he began ascending the stairs of the east wing of the castle. “I hope you find it comfortable.”

Arthur and Leon shared a grin. Ither was trying much too hard, but he couldn’t be faulted for that, and it was nice that their hosts were concerned, even if it was unnecessary. 

“It is very comfortable, Ither,” Arthur said, smiling warmly. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Please do,” Ither replied as he unlocked the door that led to the suite where Arthur and Leon would be staying.

“If I am not mistaken, you are not an elf. I am not as learned as I should be in these matters, but I didn’t think elves and humans got on well. It is easy to see that Prince Merlin adores you; he mentioned that you and your family have served his family for centuries.”

“Yes, sire, my family has been happy to serve the Emrys family. If not for them we would probably have died out long ago.”

“Are you and your family bound to them?” Arthur asked, knowing he was overstepping, but he couldn’t help it. He was curious, although he didn’t know why. 

Ither shook his head. “No, sire. Well, perhaps we are, but neither the Emrys family nor our people consider it as such. According to stories passed down through the centuries, the Emrys family provided sanctuary to my family at a pivotal time. In exchange we have agreed to help them. For the most part we each do our own thing, but when the family needs us, such as when Prince Merlin’s parents died tragically when Merlin was a small boy, we are there for them.”

By this time Arthur was at the door to his rooms. He wished very much to continue this conversation with Ither; he wanted to know more about Merlin’s parents (he felt dreadful because he had made caustic comments to Leon about wasting time meeting with a prince and not the king), but it was late and, more importantly, it was none of his business. He nodded his thanks and entered his rooms, sure that Leon would soon follow when Ither left. They needed to go over what all they had learned.

His assigned manservant was nowhere to be seen, but Arthur didn't mind. He did like that he had Morris to help him at home, but he could take care of himself whilst here. It was obvious that the people of this lovely place had more important things to deal with. And yes, despite Morgana’s thoughts to the contrary, even as Arthur was a prince, he did know that he was not more important than infirm people. 

If only she could see him now. Arthur rolled his eyes, wondering again why he seemed to care so much what his father’s ward thought of him. He removed his clothing and dressed in his night breeches and a shirt, already feeling more comfortable. Yes, he had worn ceremonial clothing from birth, but at least for those occasions he had been present only as the king’s son; he hadn’t been expected to do anything. Sitting at a table and not speaking was definitely a much less stressful endeavour that meant less perspiration. Now, he was not merely the king’s son, being paraded around for his cuteness and future occupation. He was expected to do actual work, which led to his being nervous. Which, of course, meant he felt sticky and in need of another bath. He now understood how uncomfortable his father must be when he donned all of those fancy clothes he wore to formal ceremonies. They were stifling.

Arthur wondered what his father would say if he saw this place and felt the magic that imbued the area. He would no doubt cringe and say he couldn’t wait to leave. Yes, he would be civil to his guests, but he would think they were odd and not normal.

That was too bad. Arthur understood the reasoning — his father blamed magic for the loss of his wife — but he also knew that it was not as simple as magic taking a life. 

But, whatever the reasoning, and no matter how wrong it was to blame his mother’s death on magic, Arthur knew his father’s mind would not ever be changed. It still baffled Arthur that his father had allowed his son to travel to a land that allowed magic within its realm.

There was a knock at his door. “Enter,” Arthur said as he yawned, knowing it was Leon.

Leon made his way into the room and looked up at the ceiling. “I wonder what the story behind the images are?”

Arthur glanced up and shrugged, but he was curious. There was a small group of people who looked like elves congregated around a fire, but one of them was looking over at someone who was not an elf. This man looked sad. It looked as if he were poor – he carried a small bag and looked scraggly, as if he had been walking for days. Beneath this image there was another with the group of elves and man all congregated around another fire, all of them looking happy as they ate. 

Arthur had no idea what the images meant but he was positive the story was a good one, possibly one that these people told around their tables and hearths as they ate.

But there would be time later to speculate what these images meant. For now, Arthur needed Leon's thoughts about their host. “What did you think about Prince Merlin?”

Leon sat at the table and grabbed several grapes. “He certainly wasn’t afraid to ask about Camelot. It seemed odd that he was being as inquisitive as he was.”

Arthur hadn’t thought the questions were overly intrusive, but then again, he hadn’t exactly been paying as close attention to Prince Merlin's words as he should have. He must have blushed at the thought because Leon shook his head and sighed, as only Leon could and did when Arthur was acting _un-princely_.

“It seems that Ither is not the only one who seems keen to serve Prince Merlin.” The chuckle from Leon that followed was completely unnecessary, but Arthur had deserved it.

Arthur opened his mouth to respond but closed it when he had no proper response.

“I do admit to finding this rather amusing, Arthur, since you were the one who did not want to come here. What was it you said to me as we mounted our horses? Oh yes, you said, and I quote, '_This is a complete waste of time, Leon. Whoever heard of an elf-prince anyway? He's not even a king. Why are we negotiating peace with a prince?_'” 

What was Arthur to say to that? He already felt awful as it was. How was he to have known that Prince Merlin's parents had been killed? He shrugged.

Leon did not look impressed. “You weren’t the only one distracted this evening, Arthur. If we weren’t here on official business that could have far-reaching implications for both our kingdoms, I would say he was besotted with you. But perhaps it was just that he rarely receives visitors and was being overly nice. Whatever the reason, you need to get your head in the game, prince boy. Your father sent you here to meet with a magic user. He would not have done so without a damned good reason.”

“Duly noted,” was Arthur’s contrite response.

Leon stood and began walking to the door but stopped as he looked up at the ceiling again. “I’m probably reaching here, but does this scene remind you of anything?” he asked, looking curiously at Arthur as he pointed to the painted ceiling.

“Erm, no? Should it?” Arthur asked, his interest piqued. 

“The story your father shares on occasion about his ancestor who was mistaken for an elf?”

Arthur studied the images. “I suppose, but you could probably take any story and make it work with this art, Leon.”

Leon shrugged. “I suppose so. It’s just a thought I had. I think hearing about Ither’s story made me think about the one your father tells.”

A💓M

The next day dawned much too soon and, even with him getting a full night’s rest, Arthur was exhausted. He wished that he could ask for a few more hours to sleep – he often did this to Morris – but he was not in Camelot, and neither was this person who was trying to wake him his familiar manservant.

Arthur forced himself out of bed and gratefully accepted the goblet of juice as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He spotted a bath and was somewhat surprised as he had bathed the previous evening before dinner, but he would not scoff at such. Truth be told, he longed to sit in that bath for the next hour. Warm water seemed to work well to wake him, and he definitely needed to wake up.

This place was small (well, compared to Camelot’s citadel, it was, but it was not a small dwelling by most anyone’s standards), but what it lacked in size it made up for in hospitality.

“I am George, sire, and will assist you during your stay. I would have been here earlier but Prince Merlin has gone to check on some of the infirm and has requested that the schedule be moved back an hour. He will meet you at the stables in two hours.”

_I would have been here earlier_? Arthur looked towards the window and thought it was plenty early. But he withheld his thoughts and nodded towards the earnest-looking George. “Thank you.”

“I have brought a wide array of food, sire, but if none of it is to your liking, I can request the cook prepare something else.”

Arthur looked over George’s shoulder and thought there was no way he would make a dent in the spread on the table, but at least he knew that the leftovers would not go to waste. “That will not be necessary.”

“Very well, sire. Do you require assistance bathing or dressing?”

“No, George, but thank you for asking,” said Arthur, having to work hard not to grin. This George was certainly a go-getter who seemed to genuinely like his job, unlike Arthur’s personal manservant, Morris, who did what was asked of him, but it was like pulling teeth to get him to do so.

Once alone Arthur padded over to the table as he removed his clothing, very much looking forward to sinking into the bath and allowing the water to cleanse his body, which felt sticky. He grabbed a chicken leg and scarfed it down before picking up a handful of grapes. He then climbed into the bath and leant his head against the edge, basking in the warmth and wondering if Leon had already left for the day. He probably had.

Hopefully he and the other knights would have a successful meeting with Prince Merlin’s advisors.

Arthur remained in the bath for as long as he could, but when the water began to lose its warmth, he forced himself to get out. He dried off as he ate a pickled egg and poured himself another goblet of juice before he walked over to the cupboard where his clothes had been placed. 

As he dressed his mind went back to the previous night when he and Leon had been talking about the paintings. Arthur looked up and noticed another on the opposite side – it was of the same people, or at least they looked similar, but the scenes were different. It was a scene of mass-destruction. There were three frames: in the first, there were perhaps twenty people gathered around a fire, all of them looking afraid as an army prepared to ambush them. In the second, half of those people that had been standing around the fire were on the ground, most likely dead. And in the third, there were only two people standing, looking down at their dead comrades. 

What was it about these scenes that affected Arthur so much? He didn’t understand. Could what Leon said be true? Could these images tell the same story that Arthur’s father had shared with them? He didn’t see how it could be; he had always thought that was nothing more than a story to pass the time and to maybe teach a lesson. But what if both stories were one in the same?

He arrived at the stables to see Merlin already there, looking refreshed and ready for the day. Arthur wondered if his host ever looked unkempt but concluded that he probably didn’t. “I hope I have not kept you waiting,” he said, chiding himself for lingering too long in the bath.

Merlin smiled demurely but said nothing as he mounted his horse and signalled for the horse to begin moving. Arthur guessed that was his cue to get his act together and join Merlin, whose horse had gone from a canter to a full out gallop. 

So, morning Merlin was not one for many words. Arthur filed this away for future reference as he mounted his horse.

They rode at full speed for several minutes, reminding Arthur how much he loved riding. The wind whipping in his hair, the freedom he felt as he went as fast as he could, and absolutely no one to tell him what to do made this one of his favourite pastimes. He was in his element.

Merlin finally slowed as they neared a small watering hole. He dismounted his horse as Arthur pulled up beside him and did the same.

“Since I was a child I have found comfort in riding,” Merlin said as he led his horse to the water. They had not been riding near long enough for the horses to need water, but Arthur guessed it was a good excuse to stop and talk. “According to Ither, my parents were both accomplished riders and would take me with them on daylong excursions across the countryside. When I was four,” he added, looking back at Arthur, who was leading his horse to the water, “the two of them were visiting a nearby kingdom when they were killed in a riding accident. You would think this would make me afraid of riding, but that isn’t at all how it is. I find that when I am out here with nature, I feel closest to them.”

Merlin turned away and sat on a tree trunk that had fallen over sometime long ago. “You like apples?” he asked as he offered an apple.

Arthur sat and accepted the offered fruit. “I am sorry to hear about your parents, Prince Merlin. My mother died soon after giving birth to me. I miss her every day. I can't imagine what it must be like to not have either of your parents.”

Merlin nodded his thanks before turning away and looking up at a copse of trees that were near, but he didn't say anything.

Arthur wanted to ask more about Merlin’s parents, but that was hardly acceptable. Surely he could think of something more appropriate to ask. There was a wealth of material Arthur could draw from, but the fact that Merlin discomfited him made the art of conversation rather difficult.

Usually, Arthur was the life of the party and no one ever got to him, other than his father.

But this Merlin...

“You are a riddle, Prince Arthur. My knights informed me that you were boisterous and not one to be challenged, but in the little time that I have known you, I see neither of these traits. Have I been misinformed?” Merlin asked as he turned so his guest could see his face. There was no censure there, only mirth, but it was a serious question, nonetheless, and it served to further discombobulate Arthur.

What was Arthur to say to that? Especially since Merlin’s knights hadn’t been wrong. Arthur chided himself. Why was he acting this way? He didn’t at all understand it. And what was worse was that this uneasy feeling was even greater now than it had been the previous evening.

His heart was beating much faster than usual.

He needed to pull himself together and ask questions and be his usual self. That was what Merlin expected.

But what should he ask? There were so many choices. He had never been around an elf before and wanted to know everything, but he didn’t think now was the time so he decided to stick to things that he was curious about that had nothing to do with elves. 

Maybe he could ask about Ither. He had been curious about him and his people. “Ither told Sir Leon and me that he and his people have served your people for centuries. He seems to really like it here.”

Merlin nodded as he took a bite of the apple, and after he finished chewing and swallowing he stood and sighed. “Have you noticed the paintings in your room?”

Arthur nodded, his attention piqued, wondering what they had to do with Ither.

“The ones near the door tell the story of how my people were almost completely killed off. You see, we lived near lands where there were folk who were against magic. They were a constant threat. They tolerated us for years, but then for some reason they changed and decided to remove us. We were not a huge clan by any means before this, but our numbers were adequate to go about our day-to-day activities. All but a handful of us were killed, and those that remained were forced to leave.”

Arthur frowned. What a horrible thing to have happened to Merlin’s people. He was upset on his host’s behalf that someone could be so cruel as to kill off innocent people. 

“Yes, I can see that your reaction is the same as mine when I first heard about this, Prince Arthur. It’s unbelievable, really, but I have seen the hatred in people and that is what makes me know that this story, as sad as it is, most likely really did happen.”

Arthur wished he didn’t know first-hand how cruel the emotion of hatred could be, but he saw his father’s war against magic on a daily basis. He wondered if Merlin knew about his father. “I’m sorry, Prince Merlin.”

“Please call me Merlin.” Merlin smiled genuinely.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, very much liking the way the name sounded as it rolled off his tongue. “Please call me Arthur.” Arthur couldn’t help but grin as he watched Merlin. This, them foregoing the formalities was a small start, but at least they had made progress in the right direction. Arthur didn’t see that Merlin and he would ever truly warm to one another — there was absolutely no doubt in Arthur’s mind that Merlin had overheard his comments regarding elves the night before — but as they were going to be near the other for the next several days, they needed to try, and Arthur was determined to do his part.

“Arthur,” Merlin said in deep resonating tones. “You are curious as to whether I know about your father’s war on magic, am I correct?”

Arthur let out the beginnings of a laugh but stopped abruptly. What kind of magic was this fae creature? Did he read minds? “You do know then,” Arthur answered sullenly. “Why would you want me to travel here if you knew how my father feels about magic?”

“That is a conversation for another day, Arthur Pendragon, but what I can tell you is that I am confident that you do not share your father’s thoughts on magic.”

Arthur was confused. So there was a reason he was here that probably had nothing to do with a peace treaty? He wanted answers but was almost certain he’d get nothing from Merlin on that front at the moment. “If you had scouts to alert you to my actions and personality, then you must also know that I do not let things go. You brought me here under false pretenses I am guessing. I want to know why, but as you are unlikely to answer that question until you are ready, please finish your story about the paintings.”

Merlin sat back down and watched the horses as they drank. “The other painting is a story about Ither’s people. One of Ither’s ancestors was banished from his village because they thought he was an elf. Of course he wasn’t, but these people didn’t care and sent him away with the promise of killing him just as they had killed all the other elves – the ones the story of the other panels told of – if he didn’t leave. Ither travelled for a long while searching for the elves because even though he was not an elf himself, he knew that he needed others to survive.”

Arthur’s breath hitched and whatever else Merlin said, Arthur wasn’t paying attention. This story Merlin was telling was the same as the story Arthur’s father had told him. It had to be. There were too many similarities. 

He wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if he should. Or more to the point, he wasn’t sure if now was the right time. He would tell Ither before he left – it was the right thing to do, and he knew his father would want the other to know his past. But whether or not he would tell Merlin, Arthur was still unsure.

He and Merlin soon left the waterhole and Merlin took Arthur on a tour of Álfljótr. It was a beautiful day out and Arthur could see how proud Merlin was of his kingdom. 

As they were on their way to the training grounds to see what the knights were up to, Arthur finally met another elf. He had met several half-elves, which, according to Merlin, most of the inhabitants of Álfljótr were because there weren’t many choices for either his people or Ither’s, and he had met a handful of people who looked like himself, but other than Merlin, this was his first true elf.

William was nowhere near as pretty as Merlin, but his round face and pointy ears set him apart from most everyone else Arthur had met. It was blatantly obvious that _Will_, as Merlin called him, was overly protective of the prince and wasn’t about to allow an outsider to sidle in and gain undue influence over his friend.

Arthur understood. Leon was that friend for him, the one he could always depend on, so to know that Merlin had such a friend was a good feeling, even if Will did give Arthur a good grilling, telling him that he best not try anything untoward because he was being watched.

As if.

Arthur assured Will his intentions were purely innocent. The elf’s derisive laughter was not unexpected, but Merlin’s look of sadness was.

Will had to get back to work, and, at least to Arthur’s thinking, get away from the obtrusive visitor who threatened his and Merlin’s friendship, so after taking their horses to the stables, Arthur and Merlin made their way to the training grounds and watched an older boy and one of the knights as they sparred. Arthur guessed this boy would one day soon become an esteemed member of the knights of Álfljótr. He fought well and matched the more experienced knight in skill.

“Hey, Arthur,” said a familiar voice from behind.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder and was heartened to see Leon with a group of the local knights. They all looked perfectly happy and content. Arthur nodded and again wondered why he ever worried about his best mate. Leon could fit in with anyone if he needed to, which was one of the reasons he made such a worthy representative of the crown of Camelot.

“Gilli has invited me to join him and some of the other knights for a drink in the tavern. Want to join us?” Leon asked Arthur, but as soon as he asked he let out a small gasp as he looked at Merlin. 

Arthur, who rarely saw Leon less than confident and all-knowing, was curious why Leon suddenly lost a few shades of colour, but he guessed he would soon find out.

“Oh, your highness, we would be happy for you to join us as well,” Leon quickly added.

Arthur looked to Merlin, curious what his response would be. As much as Arthur wanted to join Leon and the knights to possibly find out more information, he wanted to get to know Merlin better without outside interference. He decided he best speak up lest he find himself spending the next several hours acting as if he were having a good time with a group of knights who were more interested in seeing how many pints they could down than they were in handing out information.

He yawned, hoping his acting skills were up to par.

“Erm, sorry, Leon, but I think I’m going to rest for an hour or so before dinner, erm, unless you want to go, Prince Merlin,” Arthur said, looking contrite, as if he hadn’t just done all of this on purpose. Leon looked as if he were about to laugh, but the knight he was prevented him from doing so. Arthur thanked his best friend’s years of training.

According to the looks several of the knights were giving him, Arthur was certain he had fooled no one. Nevertheless, he hoped his guest status would count for something.

Merlin did look sad, which made Arthur feel somewhat guilty; he doubted the prince received many invitations to eat with his knights.

But almost immediately, Merlin’s frown disappeared as he glanced at Arthur and let the briefest of grins flit across his face. “Thank you for the invitation, but I think I will also rest before Prince Arthur and I eat. It has been a busy morning and we have much planned for this afternoon.”

Leon took Arthur aside before he and the others left for the tavern, his expression unreadable. Arthur suspected that he was about to be reminded of who he was, what his mission was, and that he needed to keep those two things in the forefront of his mind.

“What is it, Leon?” Arthur asked hesitantly.

“We have gone over the peace treaty. I will show it to you later, but I think you should know that Prince Merlin’s knights seem to think you are not here only for the treaty. They have been quite evasive about it, but I get the impression they think you and Merlin are to be bonded, or something like that.” It was clear from his tone of voice and expression that Leon thought this idea quite ludicrous.

“What?” Arthur sputtered, his mind spinning. Less than a fortnight earlier Morgana had made seemingly innocuous remarks about Prince Merlin and Arthur making a good partnership, and yes, those comments had bled through Arthur’s thoughts regarding the amiable and very good looking prince, but now to hear that Merlin’s knights were making similar comments? It was surreal and Arthur didn't even know what to think. Had he left the real world and entered into a fantasy land?

“Yes, that was my reaction as well, Arthur,” Leon replied, looking uncomfortable, but then he let out a small laugh, as if he were trying to dismiss all of this. Arthur understood. “One of the knights said something about your two souls being one and mentioned a mark. I have no understanding of what they were speaking about.”

“Wh- you cannot be serious.” Arthur wanted to say more but didn’t because at that very moment he began having light chest pains. Nothing that worried him, but enough to give him pause. Without thought he pressed his hand against his chest, the very place where the strange mark had appeared not much more than a fortnight ago. He almost gasped at the sheer warmth he felt beneath his hand, but years of training and repressed emotions were his friend and he schooled his face to hide the concern that was beginning to surface.

His chest hadn’t hurt since before he left Camelot. Why had it chosen now to do so again? There was a tiny part of him that said this pain had to do with what he’d just heard, but how in Hades could that be true? Arthur shook his head and tried to clear his mind of all of this nonsense. He best pull himself together. When all was said and done, he knew that he was causing his chest to hurt by giving these thoughts credence.

Whatever the reason, there was definitely something amiss and it was making Arthur grumpy. He very much disliked not being in control, and he wanted to know what was going on, but the thing that kept him somewhat calm and in check was the fact that he no longer thought the idea of an elf was laughable and detestable. Strange marks, bonds... those were things he did not want to think about, but elves? Well, just maybe Arthur had changed his tune where they were concerned.

It was just too bad he hadn’t figured this out earlier. Or better yet, he shouldn’t have unfairly judged an entire race because of his own preconceived ideas.

Arthur briefly closed his eyes, reopening them when the pain passed. “I’ll see if I can get Merlin to talk, but I don’t see that going very well,” Arthur said quietly before the other knights and Merlin joined them. Leon nodded and gave him and Merlin a wave before he left.

He and Merlin walked towards the castle. Arthur felt somewhat guilty that he wasn’t the least bit tired, but to keep up the façade he reluctantly parted ways with Merlin when they entered the castle. He stood at the top of the stairs as he watched Merlin walk in the opposite direction, then went to his room. 

As he opened the door, he reached a hand beneath his tunic and caressed the area where the strange mark resided, now without the pain of earlier, but hot and tender to the touch, nonetheless.

When he returned to Camelot he would go to Gaius and find out what was wrong.

He snacked on grapes as he lay on the bed and thought about all that had happened over the past day. Yesterday at this time he and Leon had yet to arrive in Álfljótr and Arthur had already made up his mind that this Merlin was a waste of time.

What a fool Arthur had been.

Yes, he was his father’s son through and through, and he shared many of the same ideas, because many of his father's ideas were indeed good ones. But the king’s ideas about magic… well, they were archaic.

Arthur had been rethinking his thoughts on magic for more than a year, but thanks to Merlin, Arthur could now say without a doubt that he no longer thought magic was inherently bad.

Yes, magic could and had brought about evil, and there was no reason to believe the actions of the past would not repeat themselves in future, but that did not mean magic could not be used for good.

So, no matter what the _true reason _for the trip to this kingdom had been, Arthur considered this assignment his father had given him a success. There were things yet revealed that the young Pendragon was most curious about, but regardless of what was to come, this journey (more personal than business) had done Arthur good. 

Soon enough he would return to Camelot, where his future was sealed.

But that was a thought for another day, not today. For now he would rest for a while, freshen up, and go meet Merlin for dinner. He looked forward to finding out all about Prince Merlin and to see if their kingdoms could somehow come together; perhaps they could hold competitions each year and alternate between Álfljótr and Camelot. Arthur already looked forward to seeing Morgana’s face when she set eyes upon the small castle.

He closed his eyes and fell asleep. He awoke sometime later refreshed and ready to face whatever came next. After washing his face and trying to do something with his hair, he took one last look around the room and opened the door, his stomach already growling, but he hadn’t yet closed the door when he heard a cry from downstairs.

His adrenaline pumping, Arthur left his room and ran down the stairs. Had there been an attack or had something happened to someone within the castle? He wanted to call out to see if anyone needed help, but he did not want to reveal his position if anyone had broken in, ill-intent their purpose.

He entered the dining hall and saw Merlin on the floor.

“Merlin!” Arthur called out as he rushed to his side, thankful that the prince was conscious. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Merlin replied as Arthur helped him sit up. “I tried lighting the candelabra, but when I said the usual words, there was this funny feeling that ran through my chest. Next thing I knew I was on the floor.”

Arthur checked Merlin and was relieved he didn’t appear to be hurt. “Should I go get someone? You need to be checked out by your court physician.”

Merlin shook his head. “Well, if we had one I would, but our last one died last year and we have yet to find a new one. My manservant acts as my personal physician, but he is out helping one of the children who had a setback this morning. We are currently looking for someone to take on the court physician position. Erm, could you please help me into my chair? I should be fine. I just need some water.”

Arthur, feeling fairly sheepish that he hadn’t already done this, did as asked and soon had a goblet of water in Merlin’s hands. He helped Merlin with it as his hands were trembling. “If you do not have a court physician, who treated the ones who have been ill? Was it your manservant?”

Merlin nodded. “He was a great help, yes, and that is why he hasn’t attended me for the past fortnight, but it was I who took the lead in treating the ones who were ill. I have always had an interest in medicine and often helped the court physician whenever he was busy.”

Arthur was impressed. Merlin was one surprise after another, which had Arthur wondering what other revelations the elf would divulge. There were so many questions, but for now Arthur had more important things to worry about, such as Merlin’s health. “You need someone to look at you. I can ride into the next village and bring back the local physician. You really should see someone.” 

“I don’t need to see anyone. I will be fine,” Merlin said emphatically, his eyes imploring Arthur to believe him.

“You would say that even if you felt horrible, and I know that because it is what I would say. I should at least go find Ither.”

“No, really, I will be fine. You have to trust me, Prince Arthur.” But there was something in Merlin’s voice that seemed wrong when he said this. It was as if he were trying to convince himself.

“And how do you know this?” Arthur asked as he sat in the chair before the empty plate set out for him. And for the first time he now saw that there were several dishes set before them in the middle of the table. Arthur couldn’t be sure, but he was almost certain the table had not had these dishes on it minutes before. 

This magic thing would take some getting accustomed to.

“I get this way when I am stressed,” Merlin replied sullenly. “It has been a busy fortnight, with the sickness and preparing for your visit. I am confident that once the sickness passes and once you and your party leave things will calm down again and my magic will replenish itself.”

Oh. Arthur felt his body deflate. So this was down to him. The last thing he wanted was to cause Merlin stress. Perhaps he and Leon should leave sooner than they had planned. It seemed the _peace treaty_ had been finalised, and even if there were another reason for Arthur being invited to visit Prince Merlin’s kingdom, was it really more important than Merlin keeping his health? Arthur knew all too well that his father did not handle stress at all well, and the older he got the worse it became. Merlin was still young, but no matter how healthy the prince was, stress could not be good for his body.

“We will leave as soon as the peace treaty is signed.” Arthur knew this was the right thing to do, but he didn’t wish to leave a second sooner than planned. 

Merlin sighed and frowned, but then he nodded. “I don’t want for you and Sir Leon to cut your visit short, but perhaps that is best. And I am quite certain you will look forward to returning home to Camelot sooner than planned,” he said with what Arthur knew to be a forced smile. “Perhaps we can reschedule and meet again at a later date. But we can discuss that in future. For now we should eat before the food gets cold.”

Arthur nodded, but he was no longer hungry. Merlin thought his guest wanted to leave, that he couldn’t wait to get out of this foreign land. But why would his host think differently? Arthur certainly hadn’t given Merlin any reason to think this visit was anything other than a tedious obligation. Arthur thought about telling Merlin this was not the case, but how would he begin that conversation? And, did it matter?

It was too late and Arthur was causing his host problems. The sooner he and his party left, the better. He began to eat but didn’t taste anything he put in his mouth. He was somewhat heartened to see that Merlin looked as sad as he did, but that didn’t make him feel better. In fact, it made him feel worse. He began shovelling food in his mouth quicker, wanting to get away as soon as possible. 

How quickly things had changed. Earlier, Arthur had planned to ask Merlin so many things; he had been excited to have this time with him, but then everything had changed and now Arthur didn’t want to overstress the prince.

“Before I leave I need to tell you and Ither something important,” Arthur said, resolved that he would tell Ither about the story his father often shared with him.

“I can send someone to get him if you want to do so now,” Merlin said, subdued. He looked to be upset, but of course he would be. He didn’t feel well.

“No, it can wait until tomorrow.” Arthur did want to tell Ither as soon as possible, but as much as he had wanted to leave earlier, he found himself not wanting to end this moment before he had to. He might not have another opportunity to be alone with Merlin again before he and Leon left.

With each subsequent bite, Arthur felt the lump in his throat growing larger. And that funny, nervous feeling in his chest was returning. He didn’t understand why, though. Well, yes, he did, but why did he feel so connected to Merlin? There was no reason for it. At all.

Unable to bear the sadness or impending departure, and after Merlin had set down his serviette, which alerted Arthur that he was finished eating, Arthur decided he needed some fresh air, so he excused himself and headed outdoors. It was cool and clear out, a northern wind whipping up. Arthur could only hope it didn’t mean rain. Travelling in the rain was miserable. But rain or shine, Arthur knew he and Leon needed to depart sooner rather than later.

He made his way to the tavern, hoping he might run into Leon having drinks and a laugh with some of the other knights. Instead, he ran into Ither, who was carrying a tray with food on it, headed towards a house Arthur knew was the home of two children who were recovering from the illness.

“Hello, Arthur. I thought you and Prince Merlin were having dinner.”

Arthur opened his mouth to tell him what happened to Merlin, but then he decided he best not say anything. He should, but he wouldn’t. It wasn’t his story to tell. “I came to see if Leon was in the tavern, but actually, I need to talk to you after you deliver the food if you are not too busy.”

Sometime later Arthur and Ither stood at the edge of the training grounds, where young children were playing a game that had them running around, tagging one another. Each of them looked happy and carefree. Arthur missed that feeling and found himself thinking back to the time he and a little boy with pointy ears had been playing.

Arthur gasped but tried to dismiss the sudden thought that had come to him.

“Prince Arthur, are you okay?” Ither asked, looking at Arthur with worry.

Arthur was sure all the blood had drained from his face. The little elf boy with pointy ears. It had been Merlin, hadn’t it? Perhaps not, because there had to have been other elves nearby, but Arthur was almost certain the little elf had been Merlin. 

What a revelation. 

Arthur was more confused than ever. What he wouldn’t give to speak to his father, because he knew his father would have answers for him. Perhaps not to everything, but he would be able to clear up some things.

“You don’t look so good, Prince Arthur,” Ither said, worry in his voice.

Arthur shook his head and tried to clear it of all these images. It did no good, but he tried smiling as he looked at Ither. “It’s nothing. I just had a memory pop into my mind and it momentarily took me back to another place and time.” He forced an even bigger grin to reinforce his story, although he was quite certain Ither did not believe him.

Arthur refocused his attention on Ither and shared with him the story his father had told him. It was a rather abbreviated version because as much as Arthur wanted to tell Ither everything, he was distracted and wished to be alone. He would tell Ither more about everything at a later date.

As Arthur expected, Ither seemed delighted to hear this news and had many questions about Camelot. If only Ither could come to Camelot and meet the king. Arthur knew his father would very much like for this to happen, as would Ither.

“Thank you, Arthur Pendragon. I had high expectations when you arrived, and I am happy to say that you have far exceeded anything I could have hoped for. You have restored my faith in humanity.”

What was Arthur to say to that? Compliments were far and few between for him, but on the rare occasion someone paid him one, he soaked it in. But this one? It was strange, the same as this entire trip had been. From the beginning, Arthur had been surprised and flummoxed. Merlin hadn’t been charitable when Arthur questioned the true reason for his journey here, but perhaps Ither would be. If he knew, that was. Arthur hoped he did. “From the beginning of my stay here, Ither, I have had these strange feelings that something is not right. I know information is being withheld from me. Do you know what is going on?”

Ither looked around him and seemed distressed, which was pretty much all Arthur needed to see to confirm that his suspicions were correct. “I am sorry you have felt strange, sire, but I do not know what could be causing it.”

Arthur thought Ither knew exactly what was causing it, but if he was not willing to say anything, what could Arthur do? He was at a complete loss and felt as if he had failed. “As I was preparing to meet Merlin to eat dinner, I heard someone scream. It was Merlin. He had fallen after he attempted to perform magic. He said it was because of stress, of which Leon and I have caused him. We had planned to stay for several more days, but we will be leaving as soon as possible. I hope this will help Merlin. The last thing I want to do is add stress to his life.”

This didn’t have the result Arthur had hoped for. He had hoped Ither would reveal to him the secret, but instead Ither stared at Arthur, a devastated look on his face. 

“But you can’t leave, Prince Arthur.” Ither's voice was frantic.

“How can you ask me to stay when I am causing your prince stress? He told me himself that my presence is hurting him.”

This elicited a laugh, which Arthur thought was completely uncalled for in this situation.

“Yes, Merlin would say that, and it is true, but not because of why you think, sire.”

“Then tell me why!” Arthur practically whinged, tired of this game they were playing.

Ither seemed to think about this for some time. “Follow me.”

Arthur did as asked and found himself being led inside the castle, then upstairs, but rather than turning left towards where he and Leon were staying, they turned right. As he passed by the numerous rooms, he glanced within the ones that were open and found them equally ornate, with more paintings and tapestries telling stories from the past. Arthur found himself wanting to know each and every one.

“This is highly unorthodox, Prince Arthur, and I could end up in serious trouble for this, but I will not allow my prince to fade away into nothingness.” Ither stopped before a set of double doors and seemed to gather his wits before he knocked.

Arthur didn’t have to guess where they were when a familiar, deep voice told Ither to leave him be.

Of course, it was Merlin. Arthur had the urge to barge in and demand the Prince of Álfljótr tell him what in Hades was going on, but he wisely chose to remain quiet. He felt as if he were getting closer to having his questions answered. It would not do anyone any good for him to start demanding information. 

“I am sorry, your majesty, but this has gone on long enough,” Ither said through the doors. “You went through all the trouble to have Prince Arthur brought here, and now you are going to allow him to walk away without any explanation? That hardly seems fair.”

“Perhaps not, Ither, but neither does forcing him to remain here against his will. He is not now, nor will he ever be interested in me. I am a mere elf. What have I that I can possibly offer him? As I told you when all of this began, I didn’t want to do this because everyone should be able to make their own choices about whom they end up with. Ar-”

“Erm, Prince Merlin,” Ither interrupted, his voice slightly trembling, “the Prince of Camelot is here with me.”

A string of profanities from within the room followed.

Arthur understood why Merlin would be upset about having him overhearing these things that were probably quite personal, but he had had enough. “Merlin, what are you going on about? I deserve to know!” He nearly tried to open the doors without permission but resisted the urge. No matter how confused he was, barging into his host’s bed chambers would not accomplish anything positive. “Please tell me,” he added, his voice softer now.

“Very well. You might as well enter, Arthur,” Merlin replied, his voice now sounding soft and shaky, “as you will not leave me in peace until I tell you what you want to know.” 

Arthur glanced at Ither, who nodded and motioned for him to enter. “I have a prior engagement but will return around sundown.” 

And then Ither was gone.

Arthur pushed opened the doors and slowly entered the large, opulent room. The first thing he noticed, other than Merlin sitting up in his large bed, was that there were no tapestries or paintings, but there were four large portraits framed in gold, one on each wall: a beautiful lady, a noble-looking man, a bubbly young child, and all three smiling as if nothing would ever make them sad.

Merlin and his parents.

Arthur studied each one and felt the lump in his throat growing. His heart hurt. Merlin must long to have his parents with him, just as Arthur longed to have his mother with him.

“These portraits were commissioned by my father a few months before the accident. They never saw them completed.” There was pain in Melin’s voice.

Arthur was in awe. The lady had long hair the colour of Merlin’s and had such a kind look about her as she glanced at both her son and husband. The man was burly and rather rough looking, but there was a protectiveness that Arthur could see as the man looked down at his son who was laughing, his eyes crinkled. The three looked so happy, and the fact that this child was destined to grow up without his parents made Arthur so very sad.

So much so that he momentarily forgot why he was here, but a cough from Merlin refocused Arthur’s attention and he looked over at Merlin. “Are you ready to tell me what is going on?”

Merlin shook his head as he looked towards the window, but the sigh and dejected look told Arthur whether or not Merlin was ready, he would tell his visiting nobility what he wanted to know. Without a word he removed his tunic and set it aside before looking back at Arthur.

At first Arthur was confused. Why would Merlin have done that? But as Arthur’s eyes took in the toned chest before him, his breath caught in his throat. 

Merlin had a mark identical to Arthur’s on his chest, with one minor exception: instead of the letter _M_ within the heart, there was an _A_. Arthur opened his mouth but closed it. He did this several times. He didn’t need to ask what the mark was — Morgana and her stories of soul marks and soul bonds had left an indelible mark of their own. Arthur hadn’t even entertained the idea that his strange mark might be a soul mark before, but now, well... 

“You have one identical, am I correct?” Merlin asked softly.

Arthur again opened his mouth to respond, but when no words came he took a deep breath and lifted his tunic as he nodded. “I guess I now know what the letter stands for,” he said somewhat flippantly as he looked at his mark, but this situation was anything but flippant, and it was enough to almost bring Arthur to his knees. Only his years of practiced stoicism kept him upright.

He and Merlin shared soul marks.

They were soul mates.

And Merlin had been willing to allow Arthur to leave because of course he had overheard his guest making unkind remarks about him. 

No, this was not fact and perhaps Arthur was way off the mark, but he didn’t think so. He felt lower than low. “How did you know?” he asked, mystified as he watched Merlin looking back and forth between their soul marks. 

“Soon after my parents died, I became ill and our court physician was unable to find out why. He had heard stories of a physician with magic who practiced in Camelot, so he sent me there with Ither and his wife. They had to be careful and keep me covered most of the time because of my being an elf. Even in Camelot, my true identity was never revealed. Only the physician knew the truth. He could not figure out what was wrong with me, but I did seem to get better with each passing day. According to Ither, one day I was playing with the king’s son, you,” he added with emphasis, “and we were each trying to take possession of a toy saber. I took it from you, and when you tried to take it back, two small spots appeared on each of our chests, exactly where they are now. They did not remain long at all, but long enough for Ither to know what that meant. I continued to improve with each passing day, and soon we travelled back here. Ither and his wife decided to ignore the marks, so I never knew anything about that trip until a few years ago when my health took a turn for the worse. Ither shared with me the story I just shared with you. I dismissed it, but when no one could help me get better, Ither convinced me that you were the only one who could help me. I didn’t want to tell you and neither did I want you to come here because I did not want to force you into something that you didn’t want.”

Arthur’s mind was reeling. Was this even real? The little boy he remembered had been an elf, and that elf had been Merlin. But the person Arthur had assumed to be the boy’s father had been Ither, not a king. It was an overwhelming amount of information to digest. “Well, I must thank you for asking me what I wanted before you made this decision to fade away and die, Merlin,” Arthur said facetiously to hide the hurt he felt as he lowered his tunic and took the liberty of walking over to Merlin’s bed and sitting on the edge. Merlin could ask him to move or leave if he wanted to.

Merlin let out a derisive laugh as his and Arthur’s eyes met. “Oh, I think you made that blatantly obvious before the two of us ever met, Prince Arthur. You made your opinions of elves quite clear.” There was censure and hurt in Merlin’s voice, but what was worse was the look on his face. Disappointment.

Arthur was at a loss. What was there to say to that? Merlin had overheard him, and Arthur had meant every word that had come out of his mouth. But the thing was, that was then and this was now, and now Arthur didn’t think any of those things. His opinion had changed. But words spoken were a secret no more and there was nothing Arthur could do to take them back.

“I should have never said any of those things, Merlin. I was wrong to do so.” Truer words he had never spoken, but it was too little too late for Arthur.

“Hm, yes, you were very wrong to say those things, Prince Arthur. I have encountered this from others all my life, but I expected better from you. I knew magic would be a volatile issue between us, which is why I decided before you arrived to refrain from using it in your presence, but that you would vehemently denounce my people without any reason defies belief. Surely, your father, as unforgiving and brash as he and his reputation is, taught you better.”

If there were a hole anywhere near, Arthur would have already crawled into it. He nodded solemnly because he didn’t know what to do or say. He was completely wrong-footed and had no idea what to do to make this right, or even if he could. But what he did know was that he wanted to make this right. He had to make this right. 

“I don’t know what to say to that, Merlin. There is no defense for what I did. But what I can say is that over the last two days I have discovered a caring person who I genuinely like. You intrigue me. I wonder if it is me or the bond that is making me feel this way towards you, but I guess it really doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I do have strong feelings for you that go beyond what friends feel for one another, and I am guessing you do as well?” Arthur asked hopefully. 

Merlin shrugged. “None of that matters, Arthur. When I summoned you here I was hopeful that perhaps my difficult journey to find a life partner was over, even if it was neither my nor your choice. But what I have found out is that it’s not as easy as that. This might sound dramatic, and yes, I have been described as overly so, but I would rather die than join myself with someone who can turn on a whim. I never imagined you and I would fall madly in love with one another and live _happily ever after_, but I did expect some respect. The true measure of a man can always be found out when he has no idea he is being measured. We can talk again tomorrow. Now please leave.”

Having been dismissed, a devastated Arthur took his leave and joined Leon and a few of the other knights in the tavern. He hadn’t planned on it, but after the talk he and Merlin had had, he thought drowning his sorrows with ale sounded like the best plan ever. He would deal with the consequences and Merlin in the morning.

Only that never happened because before the sun came up the following day Arthur was summoned to Merlin’s room, where the unconscious prince lay in his bed, looking as if he were merely sleeping.

“He is dying because he is denying himself the help that you could be to him, Prince Arthur,” Ither said solemnly.

There was no need to ask what Ither was talking about. Arthur was all too aware that if he and Merlin really shared soul marks, which there was no doubt of, they needed to join together so their souls could officially seal together. Until that happened, Merlin, who was already ill, would remain as such. Arthur was curious why he hadn’t become ill, but he was thankful he hadn’t.

Arthur had no idea what to do, and having Ither and several of the knights in the room looking to him as if should have an answer was disconcerting. Yes, he knew what they expected him to do — they were no doubt waiting for Arthur to climb in the bed and get as close as possible to Merlin. Surely that would heal him or make him better. Maybe it would work, but Arthur had no intention of doing any such thing. Merlin had made it perfectly clear the night before that he was upset with Arthur and that he would not approve of any public displays of affection… or even private displays for that matter. Arthur turned towards Ither. “Your prince wants nothing to do with me. I will not do anything without his consent.”

Ither opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a small boy who looked like he could be a young Merlin running into the room. He appeared to be out of breath.

“You can’t let my uncle Merlin die,” said the small elf, huge tears falling down his face. “My daddy Will says you can save him. Please, sire, please save him. My daddy has told me stories of how Prince Merlin was saved by you once before. Just by playing together you healed him. Maybe he is more sicker now than he was then, and maybe he is older so it is harder for him to get better, but maybe if you lie beside him and hold his hand... and maybe you can kiss him,” he added in a much softer voice, looking unsure. “My friend Eric says his mummy told him a story about someone who was asleep and wouldn’t wake up, but when his friend kissed him he woke up. Maybe it won’t work, but maybe you can help make him all better. Please try. Pleeeeese?” the little elf pleaded as he rubbed one of his ears and a new onslaught of tears fell down his face. 

Will walked in and knelt as his son ran into his arms and cried. 

Arthur was floored. He looked in between Will, Ither, and the knights, which now included Leon. They were all looking at him with pleading expressions, even Leon. Arthur looked to his best friend and pleaded with him to give him counsel, and, as he always had, Leon took a deep breath and nodded as he looked towards the bed and Merlin.

“You think this is what I need to do, Leon?” Arthur asked, needing confirmation.

“I don’t think you need me to tell you what to do here, Arthur, and if you think Merlin will resent you for helping him, then you don’t fully realise the lengths he has gone through to get you here. By doing this, you are helping the prince, nothing more, nothing less. There is no need to bind yourself to him in marriage or anything as dire as that. At least not yet,” he added, his voice unsure. 

“How reassuring,” Arthur murmured, barely loud enough to be heard. The last thing he needed was to officially bind himself and Merlin together. Sharing soul marks was binding enough, with implications that Arthur couldn’t begin to imagine. But legally being bound in marriage to Merlin… well, that was a thought too overwhelming to even contemplate at the moment. Marriage meant dowries, weds, uniting families, etc. Simply thinking about these things was too much for Arthur.

And Merlin loathed Arthur. Or, perhaps that was too harsh a word to use, but Merlin certainly had no wishes to ever unite with the prince who had insulted him.

He again scanned the room, looking for any signs that he was not wanted here, but of course there were none. Each and every one of these people loved Merlin. They had no idea who Arthur Pendragon of Camelot was and could probably care less that their guest shared a soul mark with their prince, but what they did care about was that this prince from the far away land of Camelot could save _their_ prince.

Arthur swallowed and nodded as he walked towards the bed. Each step seemed to take forever, but at long last, he was there at the edge, looking at the sleeping Merlin with so many unanswered questions. He then turned to Ither with a helpless look. What must this man think of him? Arthur had come to this place as a representative of Camelot, and one of the first things he had done was to act disrespectfully towards his host. Would Ither ever forgive him?

“I think we need to give Prince Arthur and Prince Merlin some time alone,” Ither said firmly as he walked towards the doors and motioned for everyone to follow him. 

Arthur shared one final look with Leon, who nodded and smiled. “Thank you”, he whispered as his best friend closed the doors behind him.

Slowly, Arthur climbed into the bed and settled on top of the covers, careful not to impede on Merlin’s personal space. For what seemed like a long while he simply stared at the beautiful man before him, wondering what he had done to have this most extraordinary of circumstances fall into his lap. He certainly didn’t deserve it. And to be sure, he wasn’t sure if he even wanted it. He had already messed this up so very badly. What if he made it worse?

He briefly thought about kissing Merlin; he knew Morgana would want him to. She would spout off something about how only true love’s first kiss could heal Merlin. Arthur inwardly rolled his eyes. Maybe later he would. Ever so gently he took hold of one of Merlin’s hands. It was warm, which was good. Arthur caressed it and silently promised never to hurt this man. He then settled himself more comfortably and closed his eyes, never letting go of Merlin’s hand, hoping that he wasn’t too late and that he could have another chance to prove to Merlin that he wasn’t merely the prat he had so far proven to be.

**💓A💓M💓One Year Later💓A💓M💓**

Morris climbed down from the scaffolding and looked expectantly at Morgana, who was staring at the ceiling in wonderment. “It is finished, My Lady.”

“It is exactly what I envisioned, Morris,” Morgana replied, a grin on her face and awe in her voice. She clasped her hands together and rested her chin upon them as she continued to study the large painting that covered the entirety of the throne room ceiling. “That you have included Arthur and Merlin’s marriage ceremony, less than two days after it took place, floors me. And to think your talents were wasted on serving Arthur for all these years.” Morgana looked behind her at Arthur and smirked.

“Yes, it was fortuitous that Gwen discovered that my manservant had a talent for creating such evocative art,” Arthur answered, with more than a little bit of mirth in his voice because Morgana hadn’t been wrong. Morris had never possessed any true talent as a manservant.

If Gwen hadn’t discovered the obscured drawings of Morris’s when delivering a tincture Gaius had made for him, Arthur’s now former manservant would have most likely been asked to leave, and Camelot would have more than likely forever remained less bright, her stark stone walls alone to tell the castle's stories. 

All that talent would have been lost to Camelot. 

“It’s beautiful, Morris,” he added as he took Merlin’s hand in his and looked at the finished paintings. Never in his wildest dreams could he have ever envisioned such grandeur within the citadel of Camelot. But thanks to Morgana, who had taken one look at the exquisite art throughout Álfljótr and decided that Camelot needed to be brightened up, the throne room now boasted the true tale of Prince Arthur Pendragon of Camelot and Prince Merlin Emrys-Pendragon of Álfljótr. 

It was a real story that was still in progress. In future, others might add to it and make the moments of their lives together more myth than fact, similar to the stories Arthur’s father had told him about his ancestor, but for now it was completely real.

Merlin squeezed Arthur’s hand and shared a knowing look that only Arthur would understand, because only Arthur knew how wrong he had been about Merlin all those many moons ago. And only Arthur knew that had he not allowed himself to find out who Merlin really was, he would now be a far poorer man. Not in riches, but in every other aspect.

Arthur could hardly believe this was his life. How could it be that a complete cycle of the seasons had elapsed since he had first set eyes upon the man he now loved with all his heart? 

“What are you grinning about?” Merlin whispered as he leant back into Arthur, whose arms wrapped around his newly-minted husband and leant in to kiss his head.

“You and me. Can you believe this is real, Merlin? We are officially together for life and no one can ever part us. Even my father has accepted us. That he threatened, if only in jest, to banish anyone who spoke out against you and me marrying is almost impossible to grasp. Yet he did.” Arthur felt happier than he remembered ever being. Now that the stress and worry about the wedding was over, it was time to enjoy his husband. And he would. Forever. 

Merlin let out a nervous laugh. “Yes, well, did you also know that he has agreed to look into reinstating magic? He said not to expect changes anytime soon, but he has at least agreed to think about it. I think his exact words to me were, ‘It would be very bad form for me to have to send my son’s husband to his death if he were foolish and found himself in a compromising situation, therefore compromises and allowances will need to be made.’”

“I don’t even begin to deserve you,” Arthur answered, thinking that for his father to make such a bold comment, he must think highly of Merlin, and such knowledge meant everything to Arthur, because Merlin meant everything to him.

He breathed in deeply and inhaled the familiar scent of Merlin as he thought back to the moment nearly a year ago that he had been awakened by Merlin kissing him. Startled that Merlin was no longer unconscious and very much alive, Arthur had attempted to pull back, worried that Merlin was confused and didn’t realise what he was doing, but Merlin hadn’t let him and had grasped Arthur’s hands in his. 

“Your exact words to me that night,” Arthur continued, his voice barely more than a whisper: “‘These marks that we share might have brought us together and they might dictate that we are a perfect match, but they did not initiate the hurt I felt when you dismissed me before you met me and they did not dictate my deciding that you are worth the risk of having a broken heart,’ are the most important words I have or will ever hear in my life. They are more than I deserve. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your life.” Arthur thought he was probably blushing; he wasn’t one for sappy confessions, but this one was past due and he never wanted Merlin to doubt that he was loved.

“You just love me for my ability to make you scream,” teased Merlin before he turned in Arthur’s arms and settled his head on his husband’s chest. 

“It’s true.” Arthur said as he ran a hand through Merlin’s hair and grinned. He thought back to the hours after Merlin accepted that _Arthur Pendragon of Camelot was worth a potential broken heart_ (Arthur had at that very moment vowed to never ever break the precious heart that he was being allowed to love.) Because Merlin had still been weak, the two had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, but Arthur had been awakened by a naked Merlin straddling him, peppering his chest with kisses.

It had been the most sensual experience up to that point in Arthur’s life (numerous bedwarmers, no matter how good they were as they pleasured Arthur, were no match to true love), but that was nothing to the feeling of Merlin’s beautiful lips as they descended upon Arthur’s erect, sensitive nipples. Arthur had allowed Merlin to explore further for some time. The kissing had quickly moved up to Arthur’s lips, and that had been even better, especially when coupled with Merlin whispering that he could spend forever kissing Arthur. 

But when Merlin had moved his attentions lower, Arthur had decided Merlin was much too weak to be engaging in such vigorous activities, so the chivalrous prince he was took charge and flipped them over before attacking Merlin’s mouth with abandon. 

From there things had heated up and the two had spent the entire day in bed together, only interrupted once, when a worried Leon had knocked on the door and enquired if Merlin was feeling better. 

A scream and a groan might have been his answer.

“I think we traumatised poor Leon for life,” Arthur said as he caressed Merlin’s cheek.

Merlin’s deep, rumbling laughter travelled through Arthur and made him extra thankful for what his life now was. He glanced around the room and marveled at what a year had brought them all.

Morris, no longer an unhappy manservant, and Morgana (well, she hadn’t changed one bit and was still as spoiled and entitled as ever, but Arthur loved her all the same) were speaking and Arthur thought he heard his and Merlin’s names being said, but whatever they were speaking about was merely background as Arthur leant in for another kiss.

When they pulled apart, Merlin hugged Arthur and held on to him as if he were afraid Arthur would let go. He need not have worried. Arthur would never let go.

“Thank you for loving me, Arthur. From the time I was a little boy missing my parents, I knew I was different from most everyone else. I didn’t think anyone would ever love me. But when Ither told me about you, I thought just maybe you would love me. But I overheard you talking to Leon about how you could never see yourself with an elf and my heart fell. I think I decided at that moment to never let myself open up to anyone. If it were up to me, you would have never had a chance to get close to me again. Thank you for taking that chance and allowing me to take my time to fully get over my hurt. I was willing to allow myself to die rather than give in to my pride. Thank you for not letting me do that.” 

His words said, Merlin pulled back, tears streaking his face. “I love that you love me and that you have asked Morris to immortalise our love for all to see.” Wiping his eyes, Merlin cleared his throat and looked towards Camelot’s new court artist, who seemed to be in the midst of another animated conversation with Morgana. 

Arthur wondered what Morgana was asking Morris to immortalise next. “Thank you, Morris. I can’t wait to see what you do with the rest of the castle.” 

Arthur leant in close so he could whisper in his husband’s ear. “Morris was the worst manservant ever, but he does do great work when he is doing what he loves, doesn’t he?” Arthur grinned as he pulled back, not wishing what he was about to say to be a secret. “I love that you love me, Merlin, and that you have brought happiness to my life again. And I am thankful that because of you, I was able to bring Ither and my father together. Knowing that a descendant of his is alive, whether they are truly related or not, makes me happy.”

This time it was Merlin who pulled Arthur to him and kissed him. 

“Aww, are the two of you not the most adorable couple ever?” asked Morgana as she sidled up to Arthur and Merlin and put her hands around their shoulders. “And yes, I am gloating, Arthur dear. I knew what I was saying when I said the two of you would make a good coupling. You should know by now that I am never wrong. And as far as Morris’s next project goes, I think Uther has some ideas for Morris that will keep him busy for the foreseeable future, but If I get my way, and we all know that I always do, I think within the next year or two dear Morris will be filling my rooms with images of unicorns and storks.”

Arthur nearly laughed aloud but instead rolled his eyes and wondered if Leon knew anything about this, but as his best friend and Morgana had been playing googly eyes with each other for the greater part of the last year, Arthur was quite sure Leon knew exactly what Morgana wanted. And, as she had said and as Arthur knew all too well, Morgana did almost always get what she wanted. She and Leon would no doubt one day get married, much to the dismay of the king, but Arthur knew that his father would allow it because the marriage would insure Camelot had an heir to follow Arthur.

Thank the gods for Morgana is all Arthur could think at the moment. If it hadn’t been for her putting such an inane idea into his mind, that Camelot and Álfljótr would be strengthened if their two princes united, he would have never in a million years given one thought to Merlin as anything other than a droll elf he was being forced to visit. 

He would have returned to Camelot with the other knights, a signed peace treaty in hand, which was the reason he had been given for the journey.

But he wouldn’t have married Merlin.

And that was the true reason Arthur had gone to Álfljótr…

To meet Merlin, the one person in all the world who shared a soul mark with him.

It had always been about Merlin.

No, Morgana had not known about the soul marks Merlin and her guardian’s son shared, but she had been very aware of her almost-sibling’s longing to meet someone he could love, and the king’s sending his son to meet an eligible elf-prince (Arthur would one day thank his father for the _quest_ he’d given his son) had seemed as good an opportunity as any. She had seen the possibilities and acted on them. __

_ __ _

__

“Thank you,” Arthur whispered to Morgana before he leant in for another kiss with Merlin. 

And they lived happily ever after.


End file.
